this time three years ago

I was in a boat with you
and the sun was burning our legs,
bleaching us blond,
sucking us dry.
your eyes were bleeding
into the water,
your fingers tugging your
pink bathing suit back
into place,
your voice humming
the beatles into my ear,
smiling with
someone else’s teeth.

I shook you awake
the next morning
and we walked down the road
in the cold dawn,
barely talking,
hands brushing, bodies shivering.
I know now I was crying
for someone who no longer
needed me,
but remembering that
shaking silence
I am still struggling
not to need you.

in the back of my mind
we’re riding a tandem bicycle
down a hill,
and my head aches
with broken promises
broken picture frames
broken mirrors.

I won’t say broken hearts
because that would be admitting defeat.